Reaped Souls
by trekkiesdeductions
Summary: THe 1st Quarter Quell is here! Rated M for upcoming mature themes, etc...
1. Reaping Part One

_A.N: Thought I'd reach into my mind and revise an awesome story that I thought up with myself other account. Similarities are present, and since I've improved my writing, revisiting this plot bunny seemed right. This is an AU, with no rebellion, no Katniss and no Peeta. (This will start with the reaping, flashbacks will be present.) Focused on a couple of characters. Starts with the 25th Hunger Games- It will be a short intro as it's passover, but I'll update soon..._

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District 2:

Zarra Fang

The day, in District 2, was for once imperfect for the Reaping. The clouds were gray and heavy, the sun barely shining. The wind whipped throughout the valleys created by the mountains. After all, The Hunger Games were back for another year, with only one to return. District 2 hasn't had a winner in 3 years, which angers everyone. We were entitled to win, we were, are Careers, training for this for our whole lives. It's now the 1st annual Quarter Quell, the 25th year of these games.

It hasn't gotten any easier for some since the Dark Days. These Games, watching our children fight to the death, and now its even more vicous, being voted, elected to be reaped in these special games.

For myself, it's worse. I'm an outcast, my family comes from a line of weapons makers, smithers living on one of the outside villages. I was scarred by a muttant white wolf with crimson eyes, managing to kill it with my swords. Peacekeepers are only allowed to have weapons, and also secretly the training center that trains us tributes, who are handpicked each year. I recovered from my ordeal, and am afraid of wolves ever since.

I had hobbled to the Victor's Village, bleeding, fainting on the doorstep of the recent victor of the 22nd Hunger Games. He was once my best friend in school, yet we trained differently. His name is Jason Hunter, winning by killing all the Careers that murdered his ally from District 7. He isn't a true killer, but is haunted by the lion muttations that prowled the savanna of his arena. Different than most of us from district 2.

Speaking of District 2, Jason and I are in a not so secret relationship, so people target me. It's a given that the Capitol mustn't know. We've come to the consensus that when I'm reaped, that he'll make sure I'll come back.

Jason will kill himself if I don't. I'm sure of that.

I'm also scarred on my right arm and back, not my face, so I'm regarded as a must for coming into these Games. At the tribute training, I excel at throwing knives and the bow and arrow, with also my main talent in stealth and endurance with precision. I also handle dual swords well enough and a sword staff better than who my district partner will be, Asher. He's tall and strong, yet also arrogant. I'm better than that- I'm not overconfident-it's not something that becomes my weakness.

Our escort reaps Asher Donavan's name, then reaps the other slip of paper- my name- Zarra Fang is heard. I walk up, since no volunteers are allowed, and shake hands with him. I go to the train, wondering how I'll be able to come back to my district.

All I know is that I'll be changed.


	2. Reaping Part 2, Train Ride

_An: rights to suzanne collins, etc... The stylists are next, I think. Will update when I can._

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John "Tore"

District 6 Age 16

Outcast

John had fought for years for this moment. This second in time to be on a stage, to be recognized. he wasn't horrified, to be sure, but his brother, Scotty was.

Shit happened, but this? John being reaped was inevitable.

He had raised his brother and him all his life. They were orphans, after all, used to fend for themselves. He had stolen, pick pocketed and scavenged for years, he was an outcast.

John had hoped that his brother wasn't. Even if he had taught Scotty everything he knew. Scotty wasn't like him at all, he had actual natural looking eyes, for starters. Scotty wasn't cynical or brooding or silent. He hadn't been hit as hard with the loss of his parents. Scotty never knew them.

John was three years his senior. He could be classified as a ruffian, or a loner, or just (if anyone saw anything in him) troubled. John had the most unnatural colored eyes. It was not a pleasing feature, none of him was. They were violet, really. That's why he was reaped, elected by his neighbors.

But,if you stared too long, or got him angry... Crimson. The color of blood, John had seen that too often, defending himself with a knife, or a hatchet. At the age of 11 he had crafted a striking weapon. A dual blade staff with a wicked design in the center. It folded into a rod hung by a piece of rope.

John carried it everywhere, used it to defend himself and Scotty. Scotty, with his curly blonde hair and horrid accent, named it. John had it grown on him, he loved the name, for it was catchy.

"Arist'al" or mostly known as "Darksinger".

John walked into the Justice Building, shaking himself out of the memory. His violet streaked hair, windblown and shaggy, was pure white. It grew in that way, which was creepy. John only laughed when his excuse of a escort asked him if he dyed it.

John responded to the orange haired man, Jeniks Sqabb, he thought...

"No dying this. We don't have the money to use it on so selfish things." He practically growled.

A chiming, soft child's laugh broke the silence. For Jeniks was beet red and fuming. It was amusing, for John didn't believe that the child was even afraid of him.

She was small for a tribute, even at 12 she was only four feet five- with olive skin, barely shoulder length, ink colored, straight black hair and piercing light green eyes. Scotty had sure seen her before. But the infamous, hated outcast of a brother?

John didn't even know her, couldn't find her name. The chiming laugh died down, and the girl stared at him wide eyed. He knew her fate, he pitied this girl, whatever her name was.

Later, they were called to dinner, John retracted Darksinger into his pocket. His trusty staff was still with him, as a token- in this form it seemed to be a charm or something. John knew that the etching on the metal was for something, he smirked.

No one had ever thought to bring a weapon as their token. John hoped it worked.

Hope never was on his side, he wished that it did just this once. he stretched his limber form, compact muscle and shown bones relaxing. At dinner, he sat next to the girl, who just stared at the food.

The tributes both didn't touch any of it, the display made John sick with malice. Until the lone victor of district six told them one thing.

"Eat. It's the Hunger Games for a reason." Surik chided them. John and the girl complied, eating until they were full.

After, they watched the pre-reaping crap (John's opinion.) Head Gamemaker Liara Likan, slender, attractive, cold, calculative, blue skinned matching hair freak gave little clues on the arena.

"It will be a challenge, for them." Liara sneered, just like a Career. The girl looked at John, he asked her softly,

"I forgot your name already, Bells." He murmurred softly.

She responded, "That's alright. My name is LuLu Besaid. "

"Can I call you Lu?"

"Sure," Lu paused, "Can I call you Tore?"

"It's John, but sure." He turned back to the T.V, lost in thought as he observed.

District One looked dumb and deadly as usual, especially the female- He found her name: Jade.

District Two was interesting, the girl wasn't a Career, at least by personality, but she was going to win- she was determined. John decided that he would ally with her out of all people.

Three and Five were not completely hopeless. Four was hell on wheels for the outer districts. Sean was strong, but arrogant. And Pearl...

John hated her, distrusted her completely.

They were up next, the commentators spoke on his appearance, he ignored it.

Seven was also interesting, the boy tall as hell, the girl willowy and defiant. John would befriend her instantly, he knew, for she probably hated the damn Capitol almost as much as he did.

Almost, but not quite.

Eight was lost on him, both wouldn't survive the bloodbath.

Nine. However- they had a fresh victor from last year- Rye Deshram and could use the training for the tributes. The girl looked abused, but sheltered and kind. John felt for her too.

Ten passed his mind, he was looking at Lu. Only a child,and they've given her a death sentence. John scowled, even angrier at the Capitol.

Eleven had Uhura stick to him, for her name was unique and she seemed distraught. John guessed that she had a huge family or something.

Twelve was hopeless. Completely. Lark, the Seam girl with brown hair and fearful grey eyes looked alot like Lu. John wondered if she could survive at all...

Lu looked around at the others and ran to her room, letting out a sob. She was terrified.

John opened her door, his violet eyes lashed in concern.

"Lu?"

"Tore?" She croaked.

John sat on her bed, Lu sat up and attached herself to him, sobbing.

_"I don't want to die! I dont wanna-"_

"Shush-" He tried to calm the child, soothe her, at least rocking her back and forth might help...

John stayed there, Lu pressed against his chest. He was happy that he had helped the girl, for the song-it explained his life. He knew that it was from another time. John smiled at the girl, Lu shivered. John slowly kicked off his shoes and unbuttoned a couple buttons off his dress shirt. He pulled the blanket over them, and slept a dreamless sleep, wary of the last few days of his life...


	3. Outtake One: Zarra

_All rights to Suzanne Collins._

_Before: Snow Wolves Zarra Fang District 2 -Three years before- _

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_Reaped Souls Year of the 22nd Hunger Games:_

_District 2: Zarra Fang_

Snow. It was beautiful, winter, my favorite season. My birthday, the darkest day of the year, was soon. I loved the cold, the purity of everything, the white. I had loved winter, until I was running late for home after training. Training had gone well, I had dual sword fighting, and beat Helen at it. She now hated me, just like everyone else, because i'm more fit for the games than any of them. Except for Asher, my best friend, Zeke, my oldest brother, and Zakiya, my sister.

The games. I shudder, refusing to think. I remember the Victory Tour here. It had stopped here last. Jason Hunter had won this years games, and was forever scarred. He had won by outrunning a landslide, and beheading the last tribute in an act of anger over his ally's death. He was the newest occupant of Victor's Village, living empty.

I travel next to the fence, climbing the ice and snow covered rocks. It's become pitch black in minutes, and slient. I'm on the edge of the district. And looking through the fence I wonder what lurks outside this district. A rustle and a howl pierce from the trees. I whip around. No peacekeepers. However... A form appears by the trees. The eyes of the form target mine, crimson in color, blink twice. I cannot resist the gaze, unable to flee. It growls again, snarling, and one word registers as it jumps over the fence at me.

Mutt.

Its claws rip my coat and shirt and a scream. Me. I struggle against the wolf like creature, grabbing my sword. I somehow manage to grip it, but then with the snarls and claws on me. I thrust up, hopefully stabbing it's heart. It whines and howls in pain as I roll off, retrieving my sword from the now lifeless body. My left hand sheaths the sword and as adrenaline fades an unbearable pain all over my right side burns me.

My jacket and shirt are in ruins, my arm and shoulder and angry and red... Blood pours from my wounds, claw marks travel my arm, wrist, hand, shoulder and torso. All on my right side. Luckily, only a gash on the back of my hand from a sharp rock. I sink to my knees, movement is unreachable.

It would be logical to die here, to avoid the distain of my district, and my family. Tears stream down my face as the blood still pours from my wounds. My sister Zakiya, so innocent, and pure, looking to me for advice. Our parents are more distant than most and our brother, Zeke is older and never was close. Her black hair and hazel eyes are the usual of the district. Wereas my appearance... They wouldn't respect me now, but they might fear me over killing this mutt, this snow wolf with crimson eyes. Scars will make me different, and outcast. However, it wasn't like I wasn't an outcast now, outperforming the 18 year olds at 14. The tears stop, yet the blood still flows.

I can barely walk, yet i will myself to stand. Victors Village is the nearest residence and also the most likely place a human would be. My black hair is matted with blood, falling down my back, bare and freezing. I force myself to move, slowly, to the enterance of Victor's Village. It feels like hours, but I make it, and lumber aimlessly to a front yard. The house is full of light, and when the door opens with a fiarly familiar figure, I fall to my knees in the piling snow. Running, the figure reaches me and catches me as I collapse. My vision fades as the red mist overtakes me, yet something reaches me.

"Zarra." The voice, concerned, shocked. Recognizing the voice wasn't hard. Jason was saving my life. That was all I thought.

Not of the games that he played, nor the games I would be forced to play mattered then.

The Hunger Games were not something that I thought would be to restore my reputation, yet they would be to prove myself: to be with the one I love, the one that saved my life.


End file.
